


Subtle Cover

by deawrites



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Adult Content, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 05:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12763710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deawrites/pseuds/deawrites
Summary: GCPD Vice is running a task force to bring down all the crime families of Gotham. Jim wants to be a part of it, but doesn't realize doing so will change his life forever.





	Subtle Cover

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are my own. Feel free to point them out. All comments, kudos, suggestions and requests welcome.
> 
> This story idea was 100% generated by my wife. Thank you Honey! I really need some plot bunnies. I love you, my partner in crime.

**The Un-Chosen One**

It was an honor to be chosen, but Jim didn’t look at it that way. To him it was all his hard work, determination, and by the book policing that had finally paid off. It got him out of uniform and into a suit, with a detective’s badge no less. The test had been a formality to Jim, but it got him the promotion that he needed, and he wasn’t stupid enough to refuse it. After all, it was what he wanted; one more stepping stone closer to his dream of becoming Gotham City’s only non-corrupt Police Commissioner. To get there he had to achieve certain steps and uniform to detective had been a central part of that transition. Now at twenty-seven years old, he had a new challenge and objective before him; an honest to god case that could easily turn into a special task force investigation. It would be his first, but the most important of his career.

 

The journey had started for Jim Gordon innocently enough. He was standing on the mezzanine in front of the Captain’s office. On several case boards were photographs of the organizational trees of the four controlling crime families of Gotham. Falcone, Maroni, Cobblepot and Bullock.  Jim stood before the Bullock board, gaze looking over the faces of the five brothers and four sisters that were heavily involved in the operations of their clan. Of the four ruling factors the Bullock’s were the only true family business as the other three had mere war lords sitting at their helms. Hands on hips Jim’s gaze noted each face of the Bullock siblings and where they rested in the organizational map. His eyes focused upon one face above the others; Harvey Bullock. Jim made a silent vow to himself to not only bring the entire family down, but that it would be his solitary mission to see Harvey in cuffs for no other reason than he had a GCPD Officer executed. Although he wasn’t the first crime boss to have policemen killed, he was the most recent and of the family tree Jim gaged him the best bet inside the organization. He would need to do more research; get close to the man but Jim was more than confident that he could do it just given the opportunity.

 

Jim felt his chance had come when his new partner, senior detective Benny Laffite; picked up a low bracket drug runner for one of Bullock drug rings. Upon questioning him they learned there were bigger fish to fry; arms deals, prostitution, racketeering and gambling. The guy had names, addresses and far better members of the clan for Jim to recruit into helping him make a viable case. With excitement beating in his chest, and a folder full of places, times, dates and cargo manifest he went to his police captain to plead his case for resources and a task force. Only to be told sternly that his investigation was stepping on the toes of Vice personnel and their own lengthy, investigation. He was ordered to drop the case immediately, and hand over all his notes and evidence to Detective Arnold Flass in Vice. There was already a task force in place and Jim was not on it; was forbidden to go anywhere near it or any of the four crime lords. Heartbroken, frustrated and feeling betrayed, Jim went to drown his sorrows and nurse his wounds at a cop bar not too far from the police station. Benny accompanied him, and Jim attempted to bask in the solace of friendship and sympathy that Benny granted him.

 

Benny Laffite was a Gotham transfer from Bayou Cane, Louisiana, where he grew up in a wealthy, and privileged household. He was laid back, thorough and one of the most honest cops Jim had ever met on the force. He cared about people and was diligent in his policing. He was not a push over however, even though of the two of them Jim was the one with the hair trigger temper. It took allot to push Benny to violence, but once the scales were tipped he was lethal. Jim liked him; respected him; and if he was completely honest with himself alone in the recesses of his mind; he was even a little sexually attracted to the man. Yet there were some lines of intimacy that Jim dared not cross with his partner; regardless of lack of availability; and that was a definite one. Their professionalism and friendship were much more valuable than a night of casual sex.

 

Benny touched the rim of his bourbon glass to the mouth of Jim’s beer bottle. “To looking in from the outside, Chief.”

 

Jim frowned, his lips momentarily pinched with frustration. “Have you seen the names of the detectives on that task force?” Jim looked into Benny’s piercing blue stare.

 

“Can’t say as I have.”

 

“Well, it’s almost impossible to tell who the criminals really are between the Families and Vice. Both sides are corrupt and if the idea is to bring anyone to justice they should start with prosecution of the task force!” Jim hit a balled fist against the surface of the bar and shook his head. “Useless sons of bitches.”

 

Benny smirked at that and nudged Jim’s shoulder with his own. “Sounds to me as if you’re sore about being left out of the reindeer games more than missing Christmas.”

 

Jim’s jaw set. “Can you blame me?”

 

“In this particular case? Yes; but that’s only because I’m happy working support with the task force without having to be a part of it. As you said, ‘useless sons of bitches’.” Benny took a sip of his drink and shook his head. “Not the headache I was looking for.”

 

Benny had a wife and two young daughters, so perhaps; in Jim’s way of thinking; it was easier for him not to want to be a part of a task force. However, for someone unencumbered by personal relationships that was extremely ambitious, it was sheer torture knowing he couldn’t be a part of something he believed in. Jim severed eye contact downed the rest of his beer.  “I should call it a night.” He informed placing a hand upon Benny’s shoulder and flashing him a false smile. “You need to get home to your family and I’ve got to get some sleep.”

 

“It’s good for what ails you.” Benny nodded with a smile. They said their good nights and Jim left the bar first walking up the street a good block or so before looking in the direction of the GCPD headquarters. The night shift wouldn’t care if there were an extra person entering the building; it wasn’t like Jim didn’t work there now, because he did. An introduction to the records clerk wasn’t a waste of effort, as sometimes the day and night shifts alternated, and it was just good business to know one’s colleagues. Jim hailed a cab and went back to work he might not be a plain clothes cop, but he was a detective none the less, so it wasn’t like he; technically; didn’t belong there, just maybe not on the Vice/Narcotics floor.

 

Jim’s first stop was his office and the organizational boards that rested outside of the Captain’s office. He scribbled down a few lieutenants’ names on photo copies of the photographs that he made. Soon enough he had a small file going and then it was off to the computer for additional information. He had to be careful, used the detective’s information that had sat at the desk prior to him and only felt guilty for doing so for a half a second before he was busy interpreting information and getting access to materials that he needed. Folder in hand he headed down one floor of the building to the Narcotics and Vice records’ room and casually poked his head in. Fortunately for him the record’s clerk was a middle-aged woman who; while flattered by his attention; didn’t take it seriously for one second. He explained to her that he was just trying to see if he could help enhance the investigation and not take over it, as the participants were already competent and mentors to him. Taking pity on him, Jim was fortunate that he was charming enough to soothe any doubts and suspicions she might have in helping him. Before he left two hours later his folder was bulging and his mind reeling. He made up his mind to investigate county records at City Hall the following day, yet for now placated himself by creating his own case board at home utilizing a blank wall of his living room. The last thing he looked at before fall asleep that night was Harvey Bullock’s face through the open bedroom door.

 

**Two: The Plan**

“I thought you were going to get some sleep last night, Chief.” Benny stated watching Jim stare at nothing for the twelfth time in an hour.

 

“Didn’t work out that way.” Jim replied shaking his head to clear it and reaching for his coffee mug. “Sorry. What were you saying?” Benny made an affirmative sound and continued to look at Jim, his expression skeptical. “It’s nothing.” Jim said after several seconds of silence between them. He looked down at his desk, at the computer screen, anywhere but at Benny. He could feel the weight of the other male’s gaze. Luckily a call came through on a case they had been working and that took the rest of the morning into mid-afternoon to follow up on. Jim thought he was home free at the end of shift when he reached for the car door to exit Benny’s car and retreat into the depth of the Bullock Clan once more. Jim halted feeling a tug on his left forearm.

 

“You can continue to lie to me that nothing is going on, or you can be honest and just tell me now. Only one of those choices doesn’t hurt our relationship; working or otherwise.” Benny didn’t like lies in general, but particularly so if they were aimed in his direction.

 

Guilt tugging at his sense of duty, Jim relented. “Last night I got access to some of the information the task force has, and I’m reviewing it, so I can plug enough holes in their investigation that I get put on the case.” Jim’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I know it’s juvenile and stupid, but I just want to help.”

 

Sympathetically Benny patted Jim’s arm and released it. “The best way to help them is to stay out of the investigation and let them get on with it themselves. For the sake of argument, say you _‘plug holes’_ , but instead of the assignment you’re assuming they’ll give you, that they reprimand you instead? This could damage your career.”

 

“I know that Benny. I just,” Jim exhaled in frustration and looked at his partner. “I just have to do this. I promise, I won’t ask for you to risk anything in return for the freedom to follow this case.”

 

Benny looked out the windshield and drug a hand back over his head, short hairs bristling against his palm. He turned back to Jim. There was no sense in arguing with Jim, nor trying to sway him when his mind was already made up and locked on the task before him. “Try and get some sleep tonight at least?” Benny urged obviously concerned for his partner’s health.

 

Grinning, Jim agreed to do just that and hurried out of the car before Benny could change his mind. He spent the early evening hours sorting through information and made his way back to work to re-visit the Vice floor. There was a close call when he nearly; quite literally; ran into Arnold Flass, but at the very least it got his heart pumping and he overheard some valuable information that filled in a few blanks he had of his own. By midnight he was home and climbed into bed an hour later. For the next week his evenings progressed as such, until he was confident he had enough information about the Bullock Clan to move into phase two of his investigation; infiltration. He would befriend a lower ranked individual from the peripheral, which would leave him open enough to the flow of information without putting himself at risk or being discovered by the task force.

 

Declan was a cousin to the Bullock Clan and ran a drop off depot for protection securities for one of the Bullock sisters, Marion. Jim was grateful he had met the man only after going to an Irish pub just at the edge of the Narrows for two nights in a row. Declan was loud, drunk and quite friendly. He loved to talk about football; in particular the Irish leagues. Jim had engaged in some side research, so he could show support for both Rugby and Footie teams without sounding like a complete novice. Sometimes the way in was subtle and unassuming, but memorable and endearing. Endeared he was to Declan almost immediately. After a mere two weeks of pandering to Declan, buying him drinks and laughing at his jokes, Declan began to talk about what he really did for a living. Jim pretended to act surprised when he informed him that he wasn’t a plumber after all, but collection depot for funds that went straight to the ‘laundromat business’ and then Marion Bullock’s pockets for distribution to her siblings. He said little about the family, but Jim was hoping as they developed a relationship that Declan’s tongue would loosen more about the brothers Bullock; Harvey in particular; instead of just droning on about how beautiful and tough Marion was.

 

Declan liked to pat Jim on the back; hard; when he got to laughing about the jokes he told. So much so that often Jim’s back was bruised following a visit to the pub. As a week turned into two months Declan invited Jim over to his house to watch a Rugby match of his favorite team. He informed him that ‘family’ would be there and Jim took that to mean Bullock incidental relations like Declan. However, Marion was there with her children and one of the Bullock brothers was in attendance as well. Rolland Bullock was a beast of a man, built like a tank and just about as friendly as one. He seemed to like Declan well enough, but his scowl only relented when he was dealing with any of the children running inside and outside of the house, or his little sister Marion. Jim grew extremely uncomfortable when he saw Declan grabbed by the shirt by one of Rolland’s meaty hands and yanked towards him. Words were exchanged and both men looked at Jim from across the room. Declan looked worried and Jim tensed, when abruptly to his left he was summoned.

 

“Oi! Blondie! Hand me that whiskey on the table there.” Stunned, Jim looked from the bottle he picked up automatically, to the speaker: Marion Bullock. He stared at her for several seconds and she frowned. “Clamin’ it all for yourself, are ya Mr. Movie Star? I said, hand it over!” Dumbly Jim thrust the bottle out to her and she yanked it from his hand.

 

“My apologies.”

 

“Your ass.” She responded though with far less venom than prior. He watched her poor a little whiskey into tumbler and hold the bottle under her arm. She toasted him with the glass in silent request to see if he wanted any and Jim shook his head, blushing slightly. “Aren’t you a little looker?” Marion abruptly smiled and handed the whiskey bottle to someone else. She leaned forward and pinched Jim by one of the cheeks. “Bet you make all the women fall at your feet.”

 

“Not so much as I would like.” Jim blurted, embarrassed by the line of questioning. He gazed past her and watched Rolland shove Declan away from him. Rolland gave Jim one final once over from a distance and turned away to his own conversations. Nervous, Declan straightened his shirt and made a bee line to Jim’s side.

 

Declan greeted Marion and then addressed Jim, “You should go.”

 

Before Jim could respond Marion demanded, “Who says he should?”

 

Declan swallowed. “Rolland; he doesn’t like,”

 

“Rollie?” Marion snorted in disbelief. She moved to Jim’s side and linked an arm through his. “Rollie!” She shouted at her brother. “You sending this beauty away? What for?”

 

“I don’t like his face!”

 

“I don’t like yours!”

 

Rolland frowned. “You want him, Mare? You can have him!”

 

Marion looked at Jim before replying to her brother, “I’ll have him alright!”  Rolland blushed and Marion burst out into laughter, and handed Jim her drink. “Here, you’ll need this for Dutch courage. I’m like no other woman you’ve ever had.” She winked at him and Jim felt his heartbeat speed up a little. “Oh, calm yourself. I’m just teasing.” She assured him taking her drink back and taking a sip of dark liquid. “You and Deck here go watch the match. Unless you actually do want a fuck upstairs Blondie.”

 

“Thank you. But, I’m good for now.”

 

Marion laughed at him. “I’ll keep my eye on you Blondie.” She looked at Declan. “Out of my sight. Seen you enough this week to last me ages.”

 

Declan took Jim’s arm and lead him quickly away from Marion. “She likes you at least.” He nudged Jim with his arm. “Stay out of Rolland’s way, he doesn’t.” Jim assured Declan that he would take it under strict advisement.

 

For a little while after Jim heeded Declan’s advice and just watched the game with some of the other people in the house. Declan set out to getting drunk and Jim kept nursing his beer and observing. He was as surreptitious as he could be, laughing and cheering when appropriate, but mostly keeping to himself. Until he felt someone press up close to his back and Marion’s silvery voice in his ear ran a shiver down his spine.

 

“I’ve been watching you. Declan’s a waste of your time. Come see me Monday at the laundromat. I have some real work for you.” Jim felt her hand on his hip, nails digging into it, pulling him backward. “Don’t be taking liberties though. Any man that thinks he can get one over on me ends up dead by my hand or by one of my siblings. You understand Blondie?”

 

“That I do.” Jim ventured turning to look over his shoulder at her just a little. Her nails dug in painfully and Jim froze.

 

“Don’t think batting your baby blues at me‘ll save you either. Bullock’s don’t get fucked with.” Marion placed a kiss upon his cheek, he felt her lipstick leave an imprint. She pulled away from him and when Jim reached up to wipe his cheek her hand seized his wrist. “Leave it. Let them know you’re mine. Rolland won’t ruin that pretty face of yours this way.” Jim thanked her, and she huffed at him and withdrew. Jim lowered his hand. He felt silly; knew he must look it wearing an imprint of her lips, but Marion had warned him and Rolland’s expression when he saw the kiss mark told Jim that he was smart to trust her word.

 

Marion wasn’t there Monday when Jim showed up at the antique shop; a.k.a. _laundromat_ ; to see her. Neither was she there the next two days that he stopped by. On the twelfth day of dogged return, instead of the weary employee manning the counter it was Marion herself who greeted him.

 

“Well look who turned up on my doorstep.”

 

Jim forced a smile; he didn’t like his time wasted but the investigation belonged more to the Bullock family than him for now. “Today must be Monday.” He teased pointedly of her original direction to him.

 

Marion grinned at him. “Didn’t say _which_ Monday to drop by did I? You’re lucky. I just happened to be in the neighborhood.” Her green gaze looked him up from toe to head and her grin spread. “Tenacity is a good quality to have. Shows me you’re serious.”

 

“Couldn’t be more so.” Jim revealed truthfully, gaze pinned to hers. She cocked her head to one side.

 

“Good then. I want you to start picking up for Declan. Get to know the stops; the faces there. I want them to know your pretty face as well. When Declan drops here, I want you with him. Sometimes the road has pot holes and I don’t like any of the cash to get lost.”

 

Jim’s hands went to his hips. “Declan’s been skimming?”

 

Marion opened her hands, palms upward. “We’ll see.” She reached into an open box laying upon the counter and placed a cell phone upon the glass surface. “This is your life line. Start accumulating numbers and use only this phone. Mine’s speed dial one, and I’m too be treated in accordance. Declan isn’t your boss; **I** am.”

 

Jim stepped forward and reached for the phone. “I wouldn’t expect it to be any other way.” Marion grabbed his wrist, fingers tight, eyes sharp and boring into his own.

 

“Remember what I said Blondie. Bullock’s don’t get fucked over, they are the ones that do the fucking.”

 

“I won’t forget.” Jim stated putting the cellphone into his jacket pocket. Marion let go of his wrist. “I appreciate the opportunity.”

 

“Just don’t forget, **I** vouched for _you_.” Marion demanded pointing a finger at him in warning. “I’ll expect loyalty in kind.”

 

“And you’ll have it.” Jim reassured her. Marion turned away and walked towards the back of the store.

 

“Go see Declan, Blondie. He’s got work to do.”

 

When Jim was back out on the sidewalk his heart was pounding a mile a minute. His hours of hanging out with Declan had finally paid off. He was in, and only after a short while had proved himself enough to meet one of the Bullock siblings. He was never certain he would get this far, but thankful none the less. His case was growing, and he would make certain that Marion trusted him, even though he realized now that trust might come at Declan’s expense. Despite the circumstances of their meeting, Declan wasn’t a bad person, per se, he just made illegal choices. Jim liked him and found himself quickly warming up to Marion as well. She had tested him, he had passed, and now the groundwork had been laid.

 

Fortunately for Jim, the first group of collections he was to do could all be done either on his meal break or after work. Declan knew that Jim had a ‘day job’ although he didn’t know nor ever ask about it. Provided he brought all the money back to the depot successfully, as far as their business relationship went they were solid. On a personal one, Declan was truly impressed that Marion had taken an interest in Jim. He explained that she was slow to show her friendly side to anyone she hadn’t known for years. He teased Jim that she was a little sweet on him, just not to tell her husband. Jim blushed; disagreed and endured taunting that perhaps it was Jim who was sweet on Marion. If he were honest with himself, he did find the woman moderately attractive. While she wasn’t the type of woman he normally sought to seduce to his bed, she had a strength about her that he found quite appealing. Given different circumstances he might even find himself wooing her, however his focus was squarely on the investigation. While there was little he could do about her annoying penchant for calling him ‘Blondie’, he did have sporadic contact with her. Declan had warned him that was not usual for her, but wrote it off to her having a crush on Jim’s looks. Jim however, remained vigilant on his guard. He wasn’t in a position where he could exploit anything save himself, and Marion had already proved that she liked to test her recruits.

 

Benny began to question Jim about his ragged appearance and the dark circles under his eyes. He didn’t complain about the quality of Jim’s police work; as Jim would be damned if he would let that slip just because he was running a private investigation; a lot of Jim’s enthusiasm felt blunted. This was completely against character; enough so, that Benny questioned him one afternoon as they were returning from questioning a witness to the station house. The way Jim’s expression paled and the look of panic that sparked within his eyes was enough to worry Benny to the point that he pulled the car over in a parking lot to converse further with Jim.

 

Stilted and slightly shamed, Jim began to reveal his plan to Benny. After enduring the disbelief, anger at his stupidity, and worry for his safety; Jim was able to convey some of the progress he had made to Benny as well. Knowing now what Jim was doing, Benny was adamant that they inform their commanding officer as well as the task force about his activities. It was the right thing to do, but Jim felt they might merely strip him of his progress, rather than embrace him into the investigation, and punish him for interfering. Regardless of doing exactly that, Jim pleaded with Benny to give him more time. Promised that just a few mere, weeks down the road that he would have a stronger case to present to the task force. Seeing the passion in his gaze, hearing the need within his voice, against his better judgement Benny relented and agreed to Jim’s terms. He reserved the right to remain angry and concerned, to which Jim was grateful that the man cared so deeply for him.

 

“I won’t involve you,”

 

“I’m already _involved_ Chief.” Benny interrupted. He rarely did so as it wasn’t proper manners, but he was still flustered from all that Jim had revealed. “We’re keeping this a secret.”

 

“ _Temporarily_.” Jim reminded as assurance that he would follow through with contacting the proper chain of command and parties involved in the case. “Vice has someone undercover, but they aren’t at a level where they’re anywhere near one of the family members.”

 

“That you’re aware of.”

 

Jim shook his head. “I get a progress report every night on the investigation. I’ve cultivated relationships both in the GCPD and the Bullock Clan. I just need a little bit more time. I’ve got more than the taskforce does right now.” Benny shook his head and Jim touched his arm. “Trust me, partner. I can’t let go of this case.”

 

“Even if it’s going to destroy your career?”

 

Jim swallowed. “It won’t. I won’t let it. Benny, I’ve _got_ to bring these people in. Not for prestige or advancement of my career, but because they’ve killed cops and I really believe I can bring them down.”

 

Benny sighed heavily and searched Jim’s gaze. “You have my silence. But if this goes sideways and anything happens to you, I’m reporting everything to the Cap.”

 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Jim reassured as he withdrew his hand from Benny’s arm. “Thank you, Benny.” There was nothing Benny could say in response, so he merely started the car and returned to traffic. He silently prayed that Jim wouldn’t get himself killed.

 

**Three: Harvey**

The next time that Jim was summoned to Marion’s antique shop he had been working for and with Declan for almost a month. Marion smiled upon seeing him and Jim returned her greeting with a reserved one in kind.

 

“It’s about time I’ve seen your pretty face.” She said beckoning him to the front counter. She reached across it and stroked a palm down his face and gave him a saucy wink. Jim blushed and she laughed. “Oh, come now. You’ve heard it all before.” She accused and abruptly her joviality vanished. “He paid you?”

 

Jim’s brow furrowed. “Paid me? You mean, Declan?”

 

Marion rolled her eyes. “He’s supposed too. Weekly. And I’ll gather he hasn’t sent one red cent your way, has he?”

 

Jim’s stance straightened a little. “Maybe it’s just slipped his mind.”

 

“Maybe you don’t like money then, Blondie?” Marion shook her head. “It’s one thing to pocket profits yourself, but it’s another when you fuck with the livelihoods of the people working for you. Runners matter. They are first and last contact with the businesses and handle the money. That’s why you take care of them, and you watch the numbers. You,” Marion paused and pointed at him. “Have sound numbers. The shop keeps like the receipt thing you do, and I have to say I’m impressed with its rewards.” Marion exhaled and pulled out an envelope from underneath the counter and handed it to Jim.

 

He hesitated only a few seconds before touching it. “Declan probably still sees me more as a friend than an employee.”

 

Marion’s gaze narrowed, and she held on to the envelope as well. “You’re my employee Blondie. Not his.”

 

Jim stood his ground but kept his tone even and non-judgmental. “I’ll be happy to remind him of that when I see him next if you’d like.”

 

Marion finally released the envelope. “I’m taking care of that. In fact,” She leaned back a little and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “there’s going to be some changes at that drop off depot.” She looked at Jim. “For starters, I want you to run it. Declan and the runners all answer to you.” Surprise showed clearly upon Jim’s features. “Why so surprised? You think I wouldn’t keep an eye on my businesses?”

 

“No, that’s not it at all. Of course, you do, I just,” Jim paused and tried to keep his stomach from exiting through his esophagus. “I just don’t think I’m the best candidate for that type of responsibility. I work days and it would be unfair to you if,”

 

“I just paid you, Jim.” Marion growled using his proper name for the first time in their interactions. “This other job of yours? Why have it anymore? You even bother counting the money in there?” She demanded motioning to the envelope. “When you work for a Bullock you don’t have any other job. Am I going to have to take that pay back?” It was more than clear that she didn’t wish too, but she would if she couldn’t bully him into staying.

 

Jim glanced at the envelope and then raised his head to look at Marion. “If I work for you, then I want to work for **you**. Not in a depot, but for the family. I think we both know I’m a little more useful than managing a delivery service.”

 

“Oi, listen to you now.” Marion said with lit of anger to her tone. “Just barely on the payroll and Mr. High and mighty thinks he’s better than the family!”

 

“That’s hardly what I said, nor inferred.”

 

“This just keeps getting better and better. Maybe Rollie was right. You sure do have a mouth on you for someone that owes his life to me.” Her arms unfolded from across her midsection and she lowered her hands to her sides. “Don’t you lecture me, Blondie!”

 

Jim raised both his hands, palms showing to her as held the envelope and carefully reasoned, “I don’t pretend to lecture or challenge anyone. My only cavate to working for you full time was that I’m working directly for you in some capacity that isn’t entry level.”

 

Marion grinned. “I know you were, and you’ve got balls on you Blondie the size of basketballs.” She shook her head. “Alright Mr. Too Good for the Trenches.” She eyed him thoroughly for a few silent seconds. “Friday night, Grace’s pub. You know where it is?”

 

“I’ll find it.” Jim assured her lowering his hands and gripping the envelope.

 

“I’ll leave your name at the door. You’ll talk to my brother. I’m certain he has just the place for a bright boy like yourself.”

 

Jim nodded. He didn’t know which brother he would be meeting with but that hardly mattered. One brother was as good as any, and closer to his goal of targeting Harvey Bullock from close range. Also, importantly, he would be able to take his investigation to taskforce and had leverage to be put on the team. Calming himself internally he thanked Marion and left the store. Declan’s job was once more secure, he had an envelope full of money he didn’t know what to do with, and was working his way up the Bullock sibling chain. At least, he hoped he was.

 

Friday night Jim showed up at Grace’s by eleven, using the hours prior to the meeting to reread all the data he had accumulated on the Bullock’s for the past few months and prepare himself for whatever may come his way. He put the money he was paid in hidden compartment he had had built into his nightstand lower drawer. He never thought he would use it for anything but his gun lock box, but as he didn’t have children or any other traffic through his apartment he left the lockbox on his refrigerator and hid the money in the compartment. He dressed in black jeans, button down, and leather jacket, suspecting that the sleek look was just the right attire for the night. Once he arrived at the door and went inside, there was a mini entry way where two bouncers stood. They took Jim’s name and one of them walked him into the main chamber and passed the bar. There was second level to the building and Jim was led up the stairs and admitted to the observation area by another bouncer. This one was armed and looked like he was ready to blow Jim’s head off just as soon as look at him.

 

Jim was now standing in the V.I.P. area of the pub where only Bullock family members could cluster above the lower level of the bar.

 

“Blondie.” Marion greeted kissing one of his cheeks, this time she wiped off her own lipstick from his skin with her thumb. “Right on time.” She linked her arm with his and led him towards a large sectional couch. “Harvey’s waiting.”

 

Jim nearly stumbled in his stride upon hearing that, and looked up to see Harvey seated in the middle of the couch with a buxom woman beneath each arm.  There he was; the man that had ordered the execution of a cop and the target of Jim’s crusade. Harvey Bullock; in the flesh. The man smiled at Jim and Marion’s approach reaching out for his sister. She gave him a quick hug and stepped back.

 

“Harvey, this is Jim Ryan.” The name a holdover from Jim’s ambitious thoughts of the trajectory of his career perhaps taking him to the Vice department.

 

“Yeah, Blondie.” Harvey teased nodding at Jim. “Pleasure.”  Marion spoke next, excusing herself now that introductions were made, so that she could go down stairs to the company of some friends she had waiting for a girls’ night out.  “No problem, Mare. Enjoy your friends. I’ll keep Jimbo here amused.” He kissed the woman under his right arm on the cheek and whispered something to her that made her laugh before she moved aside, leaving Jim plenty of room to be seated. “Have a seat.”

 

Jim did as he was bid. “It’s actually just, _Jim_.”

 

Harvey’s smile faltered a little. “Marion was right, you are a mouthy bastard, aren’t you?” The woman to Harvey’s left handed him a tumbler full of bourbon and he took a sip before she withdrew the glass. “See, I have the feeling that you don’t like me very much.”

 

“That’s not true.” Jim hated him; but for now, fought to remain calm and lie his way through the remainder of the meet. “I’m just a little anxious about the outcome of this discussion.”

 

“You think I’m going to kill you outright?” Harvey asked with a laugh. “No, Jim. See, Marion says I should give you a chance. So, this is me, giving you an opportunity to impress me. Because if I like you, you get to work for me. If I don’t, well, let’s just say that Marion will probably put you back to working one of her depots. Otherwise,” Harvey paused. “well, let’s not think about that shall we?” Harvey reached behind the couch and waved at the minibar tender. “Get three for my friend, here would you? Thanks.”

 

In a matter of seconds Jim was handed a glass tumbler with three fingers worth of liquor in it, and he toasted Harvey in gratitude. After all, he needed to make an invaluable first impression. “To god’s blessings.” Harvey seemed quite amicable to the toast and drank to it with Jim.

 

“Starting strong, yeah? Praising the Lord Almighty for finding me?” Harvey shook his head. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to talk religion, money or politics?”

 

“She skipped that lesson.” Jim stated with a little bitterness. Nora Gordon loved her son, but they barely saw one another anymore. She had never wanted him to join the military let alone the GCPD. It was a waste of his mind, she droned at him every opportunity she had. “But I’ll adhere to it if you’d like.”

 

Harvey’s grin spread. “Oh, Jim. You are find; aren’t you?”

 

Jim spent the next hour nursing the bourbon and trying not to sweat through his shirt. He had taken off the jacket when it was requested of him by wait staff and hung in an anti-room with the rest of the Bullock coats and belongings, guarded by another bouncer.  He let Harvey do most of the talking. He didn’t enjoy the fact that the two women; both prostitutes; were fawning over Harvey, and by extension himself; while they discussed business and Jim’s abilities; he endured it. Outwardly he kept on as pleasant of an expression as he was able too given the climate of his situation. He wanted to punch Harvey dead in the face and drag him through the front doors of the GCPD; he wanted to charge him with the murder of a police officer, and he wanted to watch Harvey rot in jail. The worst of it was, it irritated him to no end that on occasion Harvey would slip in a joke or a pun that would prompt Jim to smile or chuckle. The man was charming, funny and Jim struggled to not enjoy himself. Fortunately, all he had to do was think about Officer Reed Taylor’s death and he went cold inside once more.

 

Two hours in and one drink had turned into two, and Jim was feeling the warmth of a buzz. He knew he should have choked down something before coming to the Pub, but his stomach was churning with too much excitement and anxiety to settle with any food. The women had Harvey and Jim sandwiched between them, and Harvey’s arm was around Jim to reach toward the woman to Jim’s right. Harvey motioned greatly with his hands when he talked and would often brush up against the back of Jim’s hair, the nape of his neck, or shoulders when he was expounding upon some topic or another. Every time he felt physical contact Jim shivered. At first, he mistook the tingling sensations as repulsion; but when Harvey rested his arm around Jim’s shoulders finally, Jim’s cheeks flushed, his cock twitched, and Jim realized he _liked_ the physical attention from Harvey. The realization was quickly shut down; justified by him merely being lonely, and having responded to Marion’s touch as well because Harvey and she were siblings. It was chemistry; nothing more, and Jim locked the thought away in hopes of never needing to analyze it further.

 

By closing time Jim had a trial position in Harvey’s end of the Bullock organization. Harvey mostly dealt with prostitution and transport; especially through legitimate businesses of Grace’s Pub and Bullock Logistics; a trucking company located by Gotham port. Jim had strict orders to show up at the trucking facility at eight sharp Monday morning. While Jim wondered if it would be another Marion Monday situation, he didn’t question it and was determined to do as he was requested. A few more cellphone numbers were added to his contacts, and eventually he hoped one of them would be Harvey’s. Flushed, crashing from adrenaline, and shivering from the loss of the warmth and solidness of Harvey’s body, Jim walked out of Grace’s and into the early morning hours. He found a cab and gave his address, collapsing back into the seat and closing his eyes. He was still alive; still breathing and one step closer to his goal. If he didn’t lose sight of the investigation he was convinced, he could make a name for himself within the organization quickly. However, that would require doing the one thing he was loathing to do; tell his Captain and the taskforce what he had done. He had promised Benny, and now needed to be on the taskforce to be free during all hours to service the Bullock’s. Now was the time to come clean.

 

Jim’s first screaming assault came from his Captain. Benny had stood at his side for moral support, even though Jim had encouraged him to distance himself as much as possible for the sake of Benny’s career. Once he presented what information he had, and how far he was up the Bullock food chain, his Captain furiously relented and took Jim downstairs to Vice in order to face Arnold Flass. Flass was apoplectic and flew at Jim to attempt to pound his head through one of the metal desks. He was stopped by two other task force members and Jim’s Captain. Jim was held back by Flass’ Captain and once the yelling ceased and information was exchanged, Flass was forced to admit that Jim had gotten further than the task force as far as connecting with Bullock Family members, then his own undercover asset had. Begrudgingly, he was assigned to the task force and Jim Ryan was officially given documentation and a safe house as his residence. He would answer to Flass and was no friend to the Vice department, but he was accepted none the less. Come eight a.m. Monday morning Jim was stood before Bullock Logistics International and opened the door. He introduced himself to the office manager, who informed him that Harvey would be in shortly. He was told to sit down and given a cup of coffee while he waited. And waited. By eight-forty-three Harvey walked through the front doors and smiled at Jim.

 

“Blondie!” Harvey winked quickly noting Jim’s frown. “Come on in, Jim.” Harvey led Jim down a short hallway to his office, which in contrast to the rest of the décor was a bit posh. Harvey motioned to a comfortable chair across from him and sat down behind his desk. He pulled his sunglasses down off from the top of his head where he had pushed them up upon greeting Jim, and lay them upon the desk surface. “You were on time. That’s good. I would have been here sooner, but; I took longer in the shower cause the damn, hot water just felt so nice.”

 

“It’s fine.” Jim managed to say not from behind clenched teeth. “I’m just grateful to be here.”

 

Harvey set his hands upon the desk and laced his fingers together. “Why is that?”

 

Jim’s brow furrowed. “Because, I’d like to make some money and I have the opportunity to do that here.”

 

“No other reason?” Harvey stared hard at Jim.

 

Jim shook his head. “Why? Does there need to be one?”

 

Harvey pointed at Jim as a slow smile crept across his lips. “My point exactly.” Harvey sighed and rested back in his desk chair, hands now away from his desk. “Do you know how refreshing it is to have someone tell you _exactly_ what they want? And **exactly** what they mean?” Harvey cocked his head a little as he held Jim’s stare. “Marion told me, you’re straight forward. Like a freakin’ arrow. Now I admit, once I saw you for myself I thought she was just taken by your beauty. But no; you proved yourself to her in some ways. Now it’s your turn to prove yourself to me in **all** ways.” He fell silent and Jim didn’t speak so Harvey continued. “So, let’s make you some money.”

 

**Four: The Chosen One**

Harvey liked to drink, and he liked his whores. He had a temper on him that burned bright but faded quickly and he made more rational decisions than most others around him. He wasn’t married, but he wanted children; he was good with all his young nieces, nephews, and cousins that Jim had witnessed. He was loud, charming, full of life, knew his business, and for the most part could see the entire picture of Gotham, as to who held which cards and why.  The Bullock’s biggest nemesis was the Maroni Organization, as they had a transport company as well. The Bullock’s weren’t the only game in town and that was one major issue that Harvey wanted Jim’s help in working to change. For the first two months of his working with the Bullock’s, Jim only saw Harvey socially. Unlike most of the Bullock employee’s, Jim had a standing invitation to Grace’s to get drinks and a few laughs, so he could wind down each evening. It was also the best place to be seen and network with the remainder of the Bullock family. While he rarely was upstairs in the V.I.P. suites, he could feel eyes upon him no matter what he did during the evening at Grace’s.

 

Marion often flitted around the lower interior of Grace’s and on most occasions Harvey would as well. Jim got very accustomed to feeling Harvey’s arm around his shoulders, and the solidness of the man against his side. He also grew used to the filthy jokes Harvey would whisper in his ear to make him sputter and blush, to which Harvey found amusing to no end. One evening Marion pushed him against the wall as Jim had exited the bathroom, and forcefully kissed him. He could taste alcohol and smell it on her, intermingled with her floral perfume. She ground up against him and huffed in his left ear that she wanted him to come upstairs and take her from behind, but Jim calmly; and gently; pushed her back and explained to her it was the drink talking. He looked at her wedding ring and Marion laughed, informing Jim that her husband fucked anything female that moved, so she wasn’t breaking any hearts if they took a tumble into bed. Jim shook his head and politely broke it to her that he didn’t engage in workplace one-night stands or romances as it wasn’t good business sense. To which Marion, placed his hand upon her breast and kissed him once more, informing him of what he would be missing. Carefully Jim extricated himself from her and managed to escape to the bar where he ordered a beer to wash away her kisses and calm his nerves. He looked up to see Rolland glaring down at him from the staircase and Harvey and two more siblings from the observation railing. Jim made a hasty escape following drinking half of his beer, thankful that Marion didn’t follow him outside.

 

The next time Jim saw Marion she winked at him and grinned, neither sorry nor ashamed for her behavior. Jim merely blushed and hurried past her as quickly as possible. What she was doing at the trucking company he couldn’t say; nor cared at the moment. Harvey was full of slaps on the back and a congratulatory shoulder massage, forcing Jim to sit down in a chair and stood behind him. For a few silent seconds Jim was on guard, worried for his life as Harvey’s fingers tightened upon his shoulders.

 

“I like you Jim, so I’m only going to say this once.” Harvey paused, and Jim’s mouth went dry. “Take your own advice, and don’t fuck my big sister.” His fingers tensed and dug painfully into Jim’s muscles. “Understood?” The word was spoken right in his ear, and Jim nearly flinched at the force of it.

 

“Perfectly.” Jim assured, sticking to his prior assessment of not biting the hand that currently fed him. He felt Harvey straighten and pat him on the shoulders.

 

“Good man.” Harvey then walked around the edge of his desk to sit down in his own chair. “I need a new enforcer, and that’s going to be you. For the next few weeks we’re going to be working closely together and I don’t want you distracted by anything personal. That something you can do?”

 

Jim nodded instantly. “I don’t have any personal or professional encumberments.”

 

Harvey grinned. “No. You don’t. Welcome aboard Jim.” Harvey slid a stapled grouping of papers across his desk towards Jim. He placed a pen upon them and sat back, looking at Jim. “A signature and your loyalty are all it’ll cost you.”

 

Jim seriously doubted that. He felt himself jangling inside and was ever thankful that he had refused to wear a wire. In the following weeks Jim spent more time hovering in adrenaline fueled anxiety than he had in his military service. It was exhilarating, and he had rarely ever felt so alive. While internally he was aghast at some of the illegal tasks he had to preform, he had accepted months before that these were the sacrifices he would have to make to bring the Bullock Clan to justice. He kept a careful tally of every broken law he was not only a party too, but witnessed. Soon his incident report folders for each family member and/or associate were brimming, but he didn’t stop creating them: even for the tiniest of infractions. He soon loathed going to his meetings with the taskforce, as he became more invested in working his way through the family to the other branches of their organization. There were drugs, weapons, extortion, plus the gambling rings. For now, he was focused the extortion and prostitution, in addition to the transportation of illegal goods across stateliness and even into Canada and South America. He had direct access to Harvey and Marion, so it was easy; they were twisted people doing bad things and Jim didn’t have to work to keep sight of that.

 

Except when he was alone with Harvey.  On occasion either before/after opening/closing at Grace’s, or after hours at Bullock Logistics, Harvey would sit with Jim in the quiet of the building and share a beer with him; and conversation. Jim learned that Grace’s was named for Harvey’s mother who had died of breast cancer when Harvey had been in his twenties. How of his siblings that he was most like her, and gathered the siblings together after her funeral; reminded them that they were stronger united than apart. Grace would have wanted her children to depend on one another, and Harvey was instrumental in making that happen. He was the glue that kept them together and sometimes the responsibility was crippling in its magnitude, yet Harvey kept beating as the heart of the family; for Grace, for her love of her kids.  He admitted to sometimes wishing that he could just step away, leave everything to the rest of the siblings and go back home to Ireland where his mother was born in Donegal.  To the small bit of land her people owned in Doochary, and spend his days with the love of his life.

 

When Jim softly questioned whom that was, Harvey gave a soft sigh and admitted that no one could stand being with him, so that she or he didn’t currently exist.  Jim’s spine straightened a little at this admission and it didn’t go unnoticed by Harvey. He questioned if Jim was a homophobe and Jim shook his head and answered, “I like both too.”  From there Jim found himself talking about his own childhood, or a close enough version to it; to share some intimacy with Harvey. He spoke of this father’s death and how it had devastated him. Of how his brother Roger and he were never close nor ever would be. How his mother saw less and less of him every year and Jim wasn’t quite certain if he preferred that or not.  He admitted to sometimes being lonely, but work defined his life now and ambition was his mistress. Harvey reminded Jim that he had told him on the day Harvey had hired him, that he was interested in making money.  Jim nodded and forced himself to pretend that was still the case. Harvey’s only hope was that Jim couldn’t be bought for the right price, and Jim reminded Harvey that when he signed on that there was a strict loyalty clause in the contract he would honor.

 

Jim didn’t like it. There were far too many vantage points and not enough of Harvey’s people covering them from above. There was only one way in and out of the warehouse; allegedly; and Jim didn’t trust their supplier in the least. He suspected that they had also sold goods to Maroni’s gang, and who only knew what quality or deals they were granted that the Bullock’s were not. Jim was tense and kept his eyes moving, his face pinched in anxious anger and his hand near his gun. He wished Harvey had not insisted on coming to the meeting to supervise the exchange of money for merchandise. While he understood that it was important in this case that a Bullock presence needed to be felt in order to cow the supplier into a better deal, Jim felt an itch upon the back of his neck and his hands that would not relent. Something wasn’t right, and he was certain this situation was about to go south. When the shots came Jim was ready. He seized Harvey without thought and yanked him into cover. He then aimed at one shooter, dropped him and then a second, dropped with a single shot as well. Harvey drew his own weapon and was aiming at someone else, shot wide because Jim bumped him to push him further out of harm’s way. Jim felt the bullet graze him, blood blossoming beneath the tear in his shirt and leather jacket sleeve. A few more inches to the right and Jim’s heart would have been clipped if not pierced. Harvey and his men fought their way out, killing the supplier and his employees in the process, before regrouping at Grace’s for drinks, once the back-alley doctor in the Narrows tended their wounds. Harvey was uninjured, but furious. Jim sat at one of the bar tables and held an ice pack to his arm. He had stitches and had taken pain killers, but he wanted the ice to numb the trauma to his flesh. He had a beer in front of him and Harvey set a bottle of top shelf whiskey in front of that, and two tumblers. He poured Jim a shot and himself two before sitting down adjacent to the man.

 

“You saved my life today. I won’t forget that.”

 

Jim shook his head. “I was just doing my job.”

 

Harvey’s gaze rested upon Jim’s; the weight of it physically palpable. “Were you?”

 

Jim dropped his head forward a little and closed his eyes, rubbing them mildly with his fingers. He opened them and pulled his lips into his mouth for a few seconds while he regarded Harvey.  “It was instinct, Harvey. Someone I care about,” Jim cringed at the admission and swallowed. Perhaps it was the narcotic pills talking, or the alcohol that he shouldn’t be drinking while taking them, either way Jim continued; “You were in trouble and I couldn’t let you die.”

 

“Even though you could have?”

 

Jim shrugged. “I didn’t.”

 

Harvey nodded and looked at his own glass of whiskey, drained it and reached for the bottle. Upon filling it with another shot of liquor he shifted his gaze to Jim once more. “I will remember.” He said, extending a single finger and pointing to his temple. Jim said nothing in response. What could he say that he hadn’t already?

 

The incident shifted something in their relationship, rather; it created more of one between them. Often Jim’s ‘work’ placed him directly at Harvey’s side. They spent most of the hours in a day together and Harvey didn’t seem to tire of Jim’s company. After hours they also kept close quarters exchanging stories, opinions and jokes. When Jim crawled into bed at the safe house in the early hours of the morning and closed his eyes, he was excited by the thought that he would get to see Harvey shortly after opening them again.  When they weren’t by one another’s sides Harvey continually texted Jim or called him. The inundation of messages should annoy Jim but didn’t; rather he became panicked if he didn’t hear from Harvey within a short amount of time between messages. Although Jim hadn’t lost sight of his intentions of bringing the Bullock Clan to justice, he thought of Harvey more and more as an individual and not a single-minded concept of a villain. Harvey loved his family, wanted the best for them and genuinely cared about most of the people around him. He was generous with his time and money, something some criminals only did for press or appearances’ sake, yet Harvey wasn’t like that. He donated to charities yet anonymously. He didn’t call a press conference every time one of the Bullock legitimate businesses gave back to the community or made a deal that helped the City. The more time Jim spent with Harvey the more he realized that he liked the man; respected him; which was a dangerous perception to have. Harvey and his siblings were targets on a dry erase board, laid out in the Vice taskforce conference room. Harvey was a criminal no matter how good of a man, and Jim knew that the day would come when he would have to arrest him and his family. With any luck he would have a role in planning each raid to safety as possible bring the Clan into the station. For now, however all he was permitted to do was gather evidence and work his way through the Bullock chain of authority.

 

Jim’s arm had just a shadow of a scar reddening his skin when the unthinkable happened. Jim had disagreed with a couple of other Bullock employees about the most intelligent way to smuggle goods across the border when Harvey had to step in and defuse rapidly escalating tempers. He sent Jim home as the man looked both exhausted and ready to rip someone’s head off their shoulders. Jim was awoken hours later by a steady knock upon his apartment door. The safe house had come furnished but over the last few months Jim’s own touch could be seen by everything being in order and relatively clean. He pulled on a pair of jeans and tried to push his hair down to a more presentable chaos and grabbed his gun off the bedside table. He carefully opened the door a crack, and was shocked to see Harvey Bullock standing on the opposite side of it.

 

“Hey.” Harvey stated eyes shifting up Jim’s bare torso to his eyes.

 

“Hey yourself.” Jim greeted tentatively, feeling his skin begin to tingle beneath Harvey’s stare.

 

Harvey held up a bottle of expensive whiskey. “Mind if I come in for a drink?”

 

Jim’s stomach clenched in momentary distress. “I wasn’t aware you knew where I lived.”

 

Harvey shrugged. “Does it matter?”

 

Jim stood his ground. “I’ve just never been to your home, so it’s strange having you at mine.”

 

“Well, someone has to be first.” Harvey pointed out shifting in his stance. “Can I come in or what?”

 

Jim stepped away from the door and permitted Harvey entry. Harvey walked over immediately to the kitchen area and found the only two glasses in the place drying on the kitchen counter. He poured a little whiskey into each of the glasses and left the bottle upon the counter. Meanwhile Jim had closed the door and locked it, moving to stand on the opposite side of the counter bar from Harvey. Jim placed his gun down upon the counter top tentatively.

 

“To what do I owe the honor of your presence?”

 

“I’ve never seen you treat one of my people the way you treated Schlneckle today.” Harvey revealed studying Jim’s features. “What gives?”

 

“It was just a difference of opinion. I think Schlneckle is wasting time and resources, placing himself and your freight in unnecessary danger. The border cops look for certain things, and I think he doesn’t take that potential threat seriously.”  Jim shrugged, and Harvey placed the glass down before him, slow to let go of it. Jim waited for Harvey to withdraw his hand before he leaned forward on the bar and ignored the drink.  “Is that really why you came all the way over here? To reprimand me?”

 

“Partially,” Harvey admitted taking a swig of his drink before placing it alongside of Jim’s. He exited the kitchen area and rounded the bar where Jim stood, stopping directly before him. “but not entirely.”

 

Jim swallowed watching Harvey look at his bare chest before meeting Jim’s gaze once more. He flushed slightly at the scrutiny. “Am I in trouble?”

 

This elicited a chuckle from Harvey. “No Jim, but I think I am.” Confusion wrought Jim’s features and true concern flooded his gaze. Harvey took a step forward well into Jim’s personal space.

 

“Harvey, what’re you,” Jim paused as Harvey leaned forward, his lips barely brushing Jim’s. Harvey pulled back to make eye contact.

 

“Do you feel it too?” He asked, green eyes searching Jim’s tenderly, vulnerable and heated.

 

Jim swallowed, and his only answer was to surge forward and take Harvey’s mouth with his own, his impatient tongue seeking entrance between Harvey’s lips. His arms encircled Harvey as they passionately kissed. One of Jim’s hands wrapped in Harvey’s hair, and one of Harvey’s rested warm and firm upon the small of Jim’s back. They kissed for several minutes, each one leaving them more breathless than the one prior. Their limbs began to tangle together, they ground their hips against one another, and Jim stumbled back against the counter, upending one of their drinks. Neither man took note of it as Jim arched his neck and the scratch of Harvey’s whiskers upon the soft flesh just above his Adam’s apple, stole his breath as much as one of their kisses just had. Jim moaned and clutched at Harvey’s back.

 

“Mmm, want you.” He muttered hoping to all that was holy that Harvey heard him above the sound of his own panting.

 

“You can have me.” Harvey promised before taking Jim’s lips with his own. They continued kissing frantically as hands moved to strip one another of clothing. Jim guided them towards the bed. The layout of the apartment was a single loft chamber, with the only other door opening into a small bathroom. The backs of Harvey’s knees hit the bed first and he sat down, and in an instant Jim was dropped to his knees between the older male’s legs.  “Are you sure you want to do this, Jim?” Harvey asked giving the younger male one more opportunity to back out. “Once we go down this road,” He explained stroking a hand up Jim’s cheek gently. “Things will never be the same between us.”

 

“I’m not afraid, Harvey.” Jim stated confidently as he reached to run his hands up Harvey’s pale thighs and up to the waistband of his boxer shorts. “Are you?”

 

Affectionately Harvey smirked, lost to the expression of Jim’s eyes. “I warned you not to fuck my sister; the same should be said for me.”

 

Jim wet his lips. “ _Should_ , but I’m willing to take the risk if you are.”

 

Harvey cupped Jim’s face in his palms and stared deeply into his eyes, stroking his thumbs gently up Jim’s cheekbones. “You say that now, Beautiful One; but in the end? Will you feel the same?”

 

Jim barely smiled. “Why don’t we find out?” He leaned forward, and they were kissing deeply once more. In a matter of minutes Harvey was stripped of his boxers and lay upon the bed, Jim completely on top of him. Harvey’s hands clutched almost painfully at Jim’s thighs and he pulled back to make eye contact with him. “Are you alright?” He breathed, concern flooding his gaze.

 

Harvey’s eyes misted with excess moisture and he merely nodded at first in response. He forced his fingers to relax. “I just, I want this so much. And we shouldn’t; you’re right about what you told Marion; it’s bad business,”

 

“Shh.” Jim soothed leaning down to kiss Harvey tenderly. He rubbed his cheek against Harvey’s before placing a tender kiss in the middle of his forehead, their eyes locked. “Please Harvey: Tell me that I’m worth the risk?”

 

Harvey swallowed the lump of emotion that momentarily clogged in his throat. “You’re worth it, Jim. God help me but you’re _more_ than **worth** it.” Harvey leaned up and took Jim in another impassioned kiss and words ceased as physical touch replaced it as the main source of communication. Hands, mouths and bodies became their currency as they began to explore and conquer one another.  Afterwards, when they were laying sated and entangled beneath the sheet, Jim listened to the steady rhythm of Harvey’s heartbeat, one arm slung over his stomach. Harvey lay upon his back, one hand under his head, the other cradling Jim too him. He sighed contentedly and kissed Jim’s forehead.  “I was initially nervous that you’d say no.”

 

Jim chuckled. “Really? Haven’t I proven that I’ll do everything you tell me too?”

 

Harvey’s hand stroked gently down Jim’s back to his backside. “This isn’t about work and you know it. This is entirely personal.”

 

Jim sighed contentedly and rubbed his cheek upon Harvey’s chest. “How could I tell you no, when I wanted this as much as you did?”

 

Harvey smiled and brought his other arm down to embrace Jim against him. “Good answer, Junior.” He teased tenderly.

 

“Junior?” Jim protested softly. “Why are you calling me _that_?”

 

“Because every time anyone calls you _Jimbo_ , you flinch. It’s just a nick name Jim. Meant affectionately, so take it or I’ll have to come up with something worse than Jimbo.”

 

“Junior’s fine.” Jim quickly back peddled with a laugh. “No need to contemplate it further.”

 

“Are you certain?” Harvey teased shifting and feeling every cell in his body sigh with contentment. Jim merely embraced Harvey tighter, experiencing the same sated state as his new lover.

 

“More than.”

 

Harvey stroked a hand down the back of Jim’s hair.  “I’m going to tell them, you realize, that don’t you?”

 

“Your brothers and sisters?” Jim questioned feeling fear clench in his gut.  “Can’t we just,”

 

“No.” Harvey silenced relatively convinced of what Jim was attempting to say. “They need to know. You’re hands off and answer only to me now.”

 

Jim shifted and looked up at Harvey’s profile. “Didn’t I before?”

 

Harvey shook his head. “Not like this; you’re my boyfriend now.”

 

Jim took a deep breath and felt a vast calm overtake him. “I like the sound of that.”

 

“Good.” Was all Harvey could make himself answer. He hugged Jim tighter and closed his eyes before he could make a fool out of himself and shed a tear. He loved Jim, longed to tell him but knew it was too soon to declare such devotions. He would have to admit them to his siblings though, to protect Jim from any suspicion or further temptation on their part. Harvey rubbed his chin across the longer, soft hair, on top of Jim’s head and held him close. “So, do I.”

 

Jim hugged Harvey tightly and closed his eyes. “Stay the night with me?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Jim knew that for the first time in quite a while, he was going to sleep soundly. Especially now that he was in Harvey’s arms.

 

**Five: Afterglow**

Jim had never known such happiness. For a time, he pushed aside his mission and merely basked in Harvey’s company. Things changed rapidly for him the instant Harvey informed his siblings that Jim was his lover. There was slight backlash from Marion to endure; bitterness that Jim had refused her yet taken her little brother to his bed. Yet that was short lived, a pittance in comparison to what he now gained. It was if a veil of separation had been lifted and Jim was granted unfettered access to the family and their personal gatherings. Sundays there was an early dinner that spread long into the evening with all the siblings bringing their loved ones to Grace’s and sharing a meal. The bar was closed for that day and reserved entirely for the Clan. Jim was welcomed into the fold, surprised at how openly affectionate Harvey was with him in front of his family. Not an adult nor child batted an eye when Harvey had his arm around Jim, nor when he leaned in for the occasional chaste or impassioned kiss.

 

An unexpected exchange in the men’s room with Rolland brought home to Jim just how special he was to Harvey. He asked Rolland while they were washing their hands, if all of Harvey’s previous lovers had received such a warm welcome. Rolland snorted, glared at Jim and curtly informed him that Harvey had never brought anyone to Sunday dinners prior to Jim. The information hit him like a cannon ball to the gut and he reeled with it. Concern replaced annoyance, and Rolland reached for him and asked him if he was alright. Jim began to immediately hyperventilate, and Rolland helped him back out into the main chamber and sat him down in the first empty chair and roared at the nearest person to get Jim some water. He rubbed Jim’s back with an unexpected gentleness of a man his size. Next, Rolland called for Harvey, who was at Jim’s side in a flash. At first Jim couldn’t speak to him, was gulping great lungful’s of air, even though it felt as if he were completely deprived of oxygen. Harvey knelt beside him and Jim grabbed his hand, guilt swimming in his anguished gaze, as he peered into Harvey’s loving face and he realized how deeply he was in love with the man staring back at him. How could he do this to Harvey? How could he love him and simultaneously work so diligently to build a case against him and his family? If anything was important to Harvey it was his family and Jim was hell bent upon destroying it.

 

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Baby.” Harvey soothed stroking Jim’s back with his opposite palm. “Just breathe. You’ll be all right.”

 

Jim felt like he would never feel good again. That was until Harvey pushed his forehead against Jim’s and whispered to him that he would take care of him through the abruptly surfaced anxiety attack. Jim withdrew enough to make eye contact and stuttered that he loved Harvey deeply, and Harvey’s broad smile warmed Jim to the core and just like that, he was able to breathe again. He swallowed and moistened his mouth and throat, forehead pressing to Harvey’s once more. He calmed within seconds and drank one of the six glasses of water eagerly thrust upon him.  Later when they were alone, Harvey would look so contrite it broke Jim’s heart to see him so remorseful over something that wasn’t even his fault. Harvey apologized for inciting Jim’s anxiety attack by taking him too soon to one of the Clan gatherings, explaining that he was pushing too hard, too soon, but Jim merely silenced him with kisses, countering that he had freaked out because he couldn’t believe how fortunate he was to be in love with Harvey, not that Harvey was pressuring him at all. They made love, telling one another repeatedly through it how they felt about one another. When they finally settled down to go to sleep Jim felt the threat of betrayal encompass him sharply and he hated himself to the core.  While he had chosen to insert himself onto the task force and be instrumental in bringing down the Bullock Clan, he had not anticipated ever falling in love with any of the siblings. He had been foolish to believe that he could maintain a sense of division from the job and the human beings on the opposite end of the situation. He was not only going to break Harvey’s heart by arresting him, but destroy the one person in the world who loved him.

 

Jim realized that he was a monster that deserved to be reviled rather than loved.

 

In the weeks that followed, Jim stayed away from the investigation as much as possible. He didn’t check in as much, nor file reports. He gave the task force just enough information to keep them off his back, explaining that he was working a new angle and that he needed some time; just so that he could stall long enough to figure out what he was going to do about Harvey. He broached the subject about Officer Reed Taylor and by Harvey’s account the man abused Harvey’s thirteen-year-old niece April, and that his death was recompense for the crime. The accusation gained moderate traction when Jim learned that Taylor’s previous girlfriends were several years younger than himself and always seemed to have childlike facial features. The topic had been difficult to raise, and he ached to believe his boyfriend, accepting that perhaps he was trying to see the version presented to him, rather than the one he could investigate from the opposite point of view. In the end he found himself just as undecided as he had been to begin with, and dropped the entire subject for the moment. Never mind that Taylor’s death had been the event that had catapulted Jim into a self-righteous rage and spurred him to vow to take Harvey down initially. Regardless, he was in a quandary that he had no control over on either side. The investigation had a life of its own and the Bullock Clan was business as usual each day that passed. All Jim could do was forget himself for a few hours in Harvey’s company and indulge in their relationship, forgetting about being a cop in a viper’s den he was working to destroy.

 

It was easy for Jim to tell Harvey that he loved him. Jim meant every syllable of it with his entire being. He had never acted as if he liked Harvey when he didn’t, past the initial week of knowing him. How his emotions had spun from judgmental ire to aching love was beyond him, but he couldn’t deny his feelings. It sickened him how cliché it was to think that he would find the love of his life to be a criminal, while he walked the just path as a cop.  Jim considered his two failed engagements. Barbara Kean, he had been too young, too idealistic and out of his league for it to ever work. With Leslie Tompkins, Jim had been more in love with the idea of love and marriage with her that he failed to give himself to her fully. With Harvey everything was different; everything fit into place save the glaring obvious nightmare that made them star crossed lovers of grand proportions. In Harvey he found a man that made him want to be a better person just for knowing him. Harvey was his best friend, the best friend he had ever had in his life, let alone the best romantic partner he could ever dream of. Harvey was flawed, Harvey was beautiful and best of all, Harvey was Jim’s for the asking, and Jim surrendered himself completely to the older man in return.

 

“What’s wrong, Junior?” The three words struck fear in Jim’s heart every time Harvey uttered them. He was terrified that he would reveal himself somehow and break Harvey before he was able to explain himself and justify his actions. Most days he didn’t want to justify anything and merely wanted the reality of the task force to disappear.

 

Harvey sat upon his couch, angled in one corner of it with Jim between his legs and leaning back against his chest. Jim closed his eyes feeling Harvey stroke his hair with his fingers. Every touch made him shiver with delight; ache for his lover to claim him all over again. Jim sighed plaintively and opened his eyes.  “Remember shortly after we met, you said to me one night that sometimes you just wanted to leave Gotham and go to Ireland? Disappear from the life and live in your mother’s birth place? In Donegal, was it?”

 

Harvey hummed an affirmative response and leaned forward to place a kiss upon Jim’s exposed throat. “Doochary. Yeah, I remember. Why?”

 

“Would you really ever do it?” Jim asked, tensing as the fear bubbled up inside of him once more. “With me? Do you ever think you could?”

 

Harvey frowned, and Jim could feel the expression by the shift in the atmosphere and didn’t need to see it to know what Harvey’s face looked like. “One day. Why are you asking me this?”

 

Jim sat up a little and turned slightly so that he could make eye contact with his lover. “Because I think we should go. Right now; _today_. Just pack what we can shove in a carry on and board a plane.”

 

Harvey studied Jim’s features carefully. “You really mean that, don’t you, Junior?”

 

Jim saw no reason to posture and deny it. He nodded instead and placed a palm upon Harvey’s chest. “If you’ll have me, yes. Let’s go to the airport, buy tickets for the first available flight and just go.”

 

Patiently Harvey smiled at Jim and closed his hand around Jim’s upon his chest. “And our family? What of them?”

 

Harvey’s inclusive choice of wording didn’t go unnoticed by Jim. “They’ll carry on as usual here. Just like you said.” Jim leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Harvey’s, free hand now resting upon the nape of the older male’s neck.  “Take me with you.” Jim whispered longingly.

 

Harvey kissed him on the tip of the nose before burrowing his forehead back against Jim’s. “I promise I will take you to Doochary to live, just not today.”

 

Defeated, Jim’s shoulders slumped forward, he closed his eyes and exhaled longingly. “No.” He pleaded whispering. “Right now.”

 

Harvey chuckled, the sound in the center of his chest. He pressed his lips to Jim’s forehead for long seconds before stating, “You are the impatient one, aren’t you, Jim Ryan?”

 

The pseudonym was like a knife to the heart and Jim flinched internally, not certain if the movement wasn’t external as well. He opened his eyes and withdrew from Harvey to turn and settle back against his chest. “It was worth asking.” He felt like dying when Harvey’s arms tightened around him.

 

It had been over a year since Jim began his self-imposed undercover journey on behalf of the task force and Arnold Flass was getting impatient. He wanted results; all his superiors wanted arrests; but more than anything Flass enjoyed putting the boot to those he deemed beneath him, and Jim Gordon was one such annoyance. He had never liked Jim, not by reputation and certainly Jim had won no respect from Flass by conducting his own external investigation at the taskforce’s expense. He thought Jim was a jumped up, self-righteous, arrogant prick who needed to be taken down several notches before he was even fit to lick Flass’ shoes. He hated Jim and would like nothing more than to pound his pretty face into oblivion, but the crafty little shit had managed to turn the investigation on its head. Due to his diligent investigative skills, the task force had gotten as far as it had. All Vice’s prior attempts at infiltrating the Bullock Clan had been for not, either informants remaining loyal to the family in the end, or the detective’s covers being blown. Jim had succeeded where others had failed and now Flass was forced to work with him. There was no mandate that he had to like it, so whenever it came time to put the screws to Jim for results, Arnold enjoyed the event a little too much, regardless that Jim always had more accurate and extensive information to share than the prior meeting. However, now it seemed that the investigation had stalled and Flass was pressuring Jim to produce information, because shit trickled down the chain of command, and it was Flass’ turn to shit on Jim.

 

The bastard had the audacity to show up to the presentation well rested and almost; dare he say it; radiant. Usually by this stage undercover detectives were strung out, haggard and hardly distinguishable from the criminals they were investigating. They didn’t look happy for fuck’s sake, and Flass’ disappointment regarding this was staggering. He read Jim the riot act, made demands and laid out the plan for the sting operation to come to fruition with the Bullock Clan once and for all. This had taken the smug wind out of Jim’s sails and he looked almost panicked at the prospect. Flass figured that Jim must be raking in some pretty good money on the side. While Jim had turned in quite the impressive pay out to evidence, there was no way he wasn’t keeping the lion’s share for himself. Not that he was wearing designer labels if Flass was any accurate judge of men’s fashion; and he had a penchant for expensive clothing himself. However, the leather jacket Jim was wearing was not only new, but lambskin, and off a catwalk not a rack in a department store. To Flass it looked like Jim Gordon was breaking out into the sweats as he countered the existing plan with both tweaks on the original, in addition to new suggestions altogether. For the next three hours they argued and pushed their own agenda’s while other people around them worked out the potential logistics. In the end a date was set for the arrests and Jim was informed what time prior to it he was going to be ‘brought in from the cold’ into the loving arms of the GCPD.

 

Argument useless, Jim stormed off to the men’s room and rushed into the first open stall. He placed one hand on the wall and attempted to control his trembling. Seconds later he vomited into the toilet, heaving up everything he had consumed that day, before taking large gulps of air and praying his misery would end. It didn’t, tears streaked his cheeks and he slammed the heel of his right hand repeatedly against the wall and struggled to keep his sobs down within his chest. He wanted to rage, scream and shoot Flass in the goddamned face. They couldn’t do this to him; to Harvey; not now. Not when things were so beautiful between them. He wanted more time; ached for it; just for a few more weeks to know the bliss of happiness he was currently experiencing. The moment his legs were able to withstand his weight and he didn’t feel as if he were going to vomit anymore, Jim left the precinct and went immediately to his safe house apartment. He had to think, and it had to be quickly. There weren’t that many days before the sting happened, if the department kept to the schedule and didn’t run it early that was.  As desperate and as miserable as he was a part of this disaster, he wanted Harvey: needed him. There was only one thing he could do.

 

Jim looked at the box of reports and notes he had accumulated on the Bullock Clan. Most of it he had withheld from the task force as he started to get to know the family better. There was no record of half of the materials anywhere in the GCPD. Every bit of it from the records room and task force conference chamber; even memory sticks of information he had lifted from being on site at the trucking company, and copies of receipts from the payouts to Marion, laundering accounts, all of it here. While there was some evidence stockpiled at the station that would be damaging to the family, there was nothing that led back to Harvey. Jim swallowed, sick to his stomach and disgusted with himself. Yet what choice did he have now? Run, or stand and fight. Jim had tried to get Harvey to run to no avail, so now there was only the fight option. Jim took a deep breath, paid the cab driver and walked into Grace’s front entrance, box in his hands, grip firmly in the handles on either side. He nodded at a few employees and walked up to the bouncer guarding the stairs.

 

“Is he in?” The man nodded, and Jim ascended the staircase to the V.I.P. lounge. Harvey was there with a couple of his working girls drinking with him, but he brightened immediately seeing Jim. They approached one another, and Harvey motioned to the box.

 

“What’s all this?”

 

“We need to talk.” Jim gave a quick glance to the room, before locking gazes with Harvey. “Privately.”

 

“Serious business huh?” Harvey teased with a wink. When he realized that Jim wasn’t sharing in the jovial atmosphere, he immediately sobered and placed a hand upon Jim’s shoulder. “Sure, come on. This way.” He led Jim to a back room that he had never been in before, and the ambient noise was completely drowned out by the shut door.  “What is it, Junior?”

 

Jim placed the box upon the surface of a cocktail table, and rested a hand upon it. “This, is our future.” Jim stated somberly feeling emotions lodge within his throat. He fought to swallow around the constriction of his muscles. “You need to know, that what’s in here will change how you feel about me; but it will **never** change how much I love and need you.” He nodded once, desperate to convince Harvey before giving the box contents over. “It changes nothing.”

 

“Yeah, okay. It changes nothing.” Harvey stated nervousness tinging his voice. “Jim, you’re beginning to scare me. What’s in the box? Someone’s head or something?”

 

Jim merely retracted his hand and took a few steps away from the box. He began pacing a little, never taking his eyes off Harvey for more than a second as he watched the man he loved open the offering. “What?” Harvey began to root around the box interior and took out a GCPD folder and opened it. It held some of Jim’s official reports that he had turned into Flass and the task force. Harvey’s smile vanished as disbelief drew in his features. He lowered the folder and released it from his hands, crossed the room to Jim abruptly, and seized him by the lapels of his jacket and knocked him back against the closest wall. “You’re a fucking snitch, Jim? Huh?” Harvey demanded, enraged. “Are you? Is that what you’re telling me here? Because you’ve got three seconds to,”

 

“Yes!” Jim whined; large, blue eyes, pleading with Harvey as they prickled with tears. He reached up to place his hands upon Harvey’s. Not to detach the man from him, but rather to hold on to him instead. “I’m a detective on the investigation into all the Gotham crime lords, your family included.”

 

Pain and rage intermingled upon Harvey’s features. “You **lied** to me, Jim? Was everything between us just some sort of _act_ to you?”

 

“No!” Jim scrabbled desperately at Harvey, his hands touching Harvey’s shoulders and his sides. “No, Harvey. Everything I told you was the truth. Everything except what I did for a living, that I was in this for the money, and my last name. Everything, _everything_ else was all **me** ; is all the _truth_.”

 

“Well how in the hell can I believe you?” Harvey roared slamming Jim back into the wall once more. “You’re a fucking, lying, cop! You used _me_ ; used my **family** and now I’m just supposed to trust anything you say?

 

“Harvey,” Jim entreated tenderly. “I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing but, I love you. And I can’t let them arrest you.” As Jim talked he found strength in his words and his spine straightened as he grabbed a hold of the front of Harvey’s shirt. “You have to listen to me; They’re coming. They told me the time and day, but I know the men involved, they’re most likely going to strike before the go date. That means you all have to be ready ahead of time. We have to call Marion, Rolland, and all the others. Get your files and cargoes out. If they don’t have any hard evidence on site, they can’t hold you if they bring you in. We can’t let them,”

 

“We?” Harvey demanded through his teeth. “You’re going to stand there after breaking my trust and say, ‘ _we’_?” Rage erupted from Harvey’s core and he roared, dragging Jim away from the wall and throwing him down onto the floor.  “You son of a bitch, you lied to me!” Harvey went for Jim, grabbed him once more, and yanked him up, only to bang him down onto the floor again. Jim took the beating of sorts, didn’t defend himself or try and strike Harvey as the man yelled down into his face. “You broke my fucking heart, Jim! You goddamned bastard, get out!” Harvey dragged Jim off the floor and shoved him in the direction of the door. “Take that box of lies with you!”

 

Jim straightened his jacket by rolling his shoulders back into it properly, and looked at the box. He shook his head and raised his stare to Harvey’s red and irate features. “That’s not what I want anymore.” He said sorrowfully and reached for the door handle. Within seconds he was gone. He wiped tears bitterly away from his cheeks quickly, as he hurried down the stairs and out of the door. He couldn’t breathe; not really; but he walked blindly in the direction of the subway and wasn’t certain what he was going to do now; what he _could_ do as he had lost everything that mattered to him.

 

Furious Harvey kicked the cocktail table over, shattering the glass top, and knocking the box onto the floor, onto its side. A few of the memory sticks and compact disks showing security camera footage, fell out of it and Harvey squatted down to retrieve them. He grabbed the box to right it, pausing only to wipe a hand over his face and clean his cheeks of tears. A sob escaped him as he threw the items back into the box careful not to cut himself on the glass shards of table. Something among the files caught his eye, and Harvey quieted as he rooted through the box and withdrew the item: Jim’s badge, and what he assumed to be the younger male’s gun. Harvey’s knees lowered to the ground and he began crying clutching the items in his hands. If this was Jim’s way of telling Harvey that he was walking away from the investigation and the wreckage he had caused, it was a horrible way to express it. Once more the man he loved had the last word and the effects of it were devastating.

 

Harvey knew that there was only one decision that he could make now for the good of his family. Whether it was the wisest choice or not didn’t matter. It was the only remaining one. The only course of action he could take regardless of how Jim’s lies made him feel. It was all Jim had left for him to seize onto in the wake of his retreat.

 

**Six: Harvey & Jim**

For the first time in almost two years Jim returned to his apartment. He began packing, only a few clothes and items that he couldn’t bear to part with; trinkets from what now seemed like a separate lifetime altogether. He shoved everything into his Army duffle bag and back pack, preparing himself to leave Gotham. There was nothing here for him without Harvey and the Bullock Clan; not his job, not his sanity, not even his self-appraisal. Nothing mattered now that Harvey had thrown him out of Grace’s and by extension his own life. Jim sat on the end of his bed, pressed his face into his hands and sobbed. Cried until he slid from the mattress to sit upon the floor, pulling his knees up to his chest. He wanted to die, but he had left his gun with Harvey in hopes the man would send someone to shoot him with it. He was a disgrace to the GCPD and to the Bullock’s. He had nothing left but the shell of a life that was hardly worth saving.

 

He sat there for hours; even curled up and fell over onto his side after a while and remained there. Stayed curled up and pathetic as the shadows reached across the carpeted floor and the sun set leaving him in the darkness. It was fitting that he should remain like this; no light nor hope to guide him. He was the worst possible human being upon the face of the planet. He hated himself and everything that he had ever done, along with every decision he had ever made. All of it had been the wrong one, and yet here he remained, coveting his pain and longing for death. Because what else could he possibly do? If there was an answer, he didn’t have the energy to bring it to fruition.

 

There was a knock upon his apartment door and Jim rose to sit up as the knock sounded again, this time more insistent. It was he assassin sent to end him, and Jim swallowed as he pushed himself to stand. Tentatively he walked over to the door, took a deep breath to center himself; before he turned the door knob. When he saw who was on the opposite side of the door he felt his world re-collapse beneath his feet. Of course, it could end no other way.

 

Harvey.

 

“I would take you to Doochary, Jim.”

 

It might not have been a gunshot to the face, but it tore his heart into pieces as Jim recalled what Harvey had told him about the journey to the township in Ireland.

 

“I know.” Jim stepped back from the door and turned away. Seconds later Harvey crossed over the threshold, closed the door and turned on a light. Jim crossed his arms in a feeble attempt to embrace himself. “I didn’t think it would be you. I thought you’d send someone else.”

 

“Why would I?” Harvey asked, closer than just if he had been standing in the entryway. Jim fought the urge to turn around. Self-preservation was one thing, but rushing pell-mell into the breach was more difficult than it should have been.  “Didn’t think you were coward enough not to face me. You did just a few hours ago.”

 

“Did I though?” Jim asked of his lack of courage at coming clean with Harvey much sooner. Shoulders rounding back, he slowly turned to face his lover, dropping his hands to his sides. “I’m ready.”

 

Harvey’s brow furrowed. “For what? To run from me?”

 

“I’m not going to run.” Jim pledged to them both.

 

Harvey closed the distance between them and stood directly in Jim’s personal space, his gaze caressing the younger male’s features.  “You didn’t let me finish.” Harvey stated, and before Jim could question him, he continued, “I said that I would take you to Doochary.” Harvey reached up and placed his hands upon Jim’s shoulders right at his throat, and Jim tensed. Harvey was going to strangle him, instead of shoot him. Harvey’s thumbs stroked Jim’s throat and the underside of his jaw. “If that’s what you _really_ want to do.” A slight smile curled the corners of Harvey’s mouth and his tone was tender and filled with affection. “We could leave Gotham, live simply. But since you won’t run as you say, we can do the same here. Understand, that I won’t stop working Grace’s or B.L.I., just because we’re staying. I built them from the ground up. I’m proud of them. They’re legitimate businesses and the only way I would leave them is if you and I go to Donegal.”

 

Jim felt himself sway beneath Harvey’s hands. The misery and fight draining out of him as he realized what Harvey was truly saying to him. They hadn’t ended; in fact, they were picking up right where they left off. “You, you don’t _hate_ me?”

 

“Am I angry? Yes, and hurt that you lied to me. But it’s not so vast that I can’t forgive you; provided you swear that you’ll **never** , _ever_ , lie to me again.”

 

Jim’s hands went to Harvey’s wrists and he turned his head to kiss a few of his lover’s fingers. “I promise, I promise I’ll never, ever, lie to you. I love you!”

 

Harvey sighed softly, and his palms shifted to cradle Jim’s cheeks in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away Jim’s tears. “I love you too, beautiful idiot.” Harvey leaned forward, and they were kissing. Jim’s arms wound around Harvey’s midsection and he kissed him with all the passion that had dimmed due to his previous misery. “Come ‘ere.” Harvey whispered encircling his arms around Jim and holding him tightly. “Don’t cry. It’s all over now Baby; don’t cry.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Jim whined in apology struggling to get a hold of his emotions. He chuckled through his tears and sank into Harvey’s embrace as the man held him even tighter. “I didn’t know what to do. I was going to leave Gotham. I don’t know where I would have gone.”

 

“Shh.” Harvey soothed stroking a hand down the back of Jim’s head. “None of that matters now. When I forgive someone that’s the end of it. We don’t need to discuss this ever again. I think we’d both just like to forget it ever happened, yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” Jim agreed closing his eyes and holding Harvey tight.

 

Jim submitted his resignation to his Captain and the H.R. department in tandem. He turned over his gun, badge and identification credentials happy to feel the weight of responsibility drain from his shoulders. Flass was livid, accusing Jim of stealing evidence from the task force and destroying it, but there was no concrete proof that Jim had. Never mind that he and Harvey had burned every bit of it in the dumpster at the back of Bullock Logistics.  Over it they had made vows to one another that they planned within the next year to stay to one another before god and the Bullock Clan. The reception would be held at Grace’s and for close family only. While Jim had only Benny, his wife and two daughters representing his side of the isle, Jim didn’t really need anyone else to be there. He had all the family and support he could withstand or need, from the Bullock’s side of the church.

 

Jim had always wanted to be a cop when he was little; or some sort of law enforcer; and now he was. He just didn’t work for Gotham City Police nor the Department of Justice. His new full-time job was to act as the Bullock Clan’s chief of personal security. He set the bodyguards in place for all the siblings and their significant others and off spring. He loved his new job and became Harvey’s voice by proxy in all business and family matters if Harvey was unable to voice his opinion’s in person. He trusted Jim implicitly and Jim had worked hard to earn that trust over time. While Harvey said that the past would remain in the past and be forgotten, Jim was practical and knew that just because the situation had changed that didn’t mean that perceptions and feelings had altered as quickly. He accepted his actions and forgave himself eventually, for which Harvey was most grateful.

 

One Sunday evening Marion stood with Harvey looking down at the main floor of Grace’s. Jim was laughing, had one of Harvey’s nieces on his lap and was playing a board game with her and five other children. Marion looked from Jim to her brother and asked, “Are you ever going to tell him?”

 

Harvey’s gaze slid from Jim’s smiling face to Marion. “Tell him what? That Mikey cheats? He'll figure it out.”

 

Marion shoved Harvey’s arm lightly, not even close enough to knock it from the railing. “No. That you knew he was a cop the first time you clapped eyes on him?”

 

Harvey shrugged. “You didn’t.”

 

“I thought he was pretty. Plus, I was curious to see how far he’d get before he got stupid.”

 

Harvey’s gaze rested squarely upon his husband below. “Me too.” He informed his sister affectionately. “Me too.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Subtle Cover: Harvey - compainon piece and ficlet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12894840) by [deawrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deawrites/pseuds/deawrites)




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